Ancient Battle #26

Gale's eyes opened to a disconcerting sight in the depths of his mental realm. He no longer inhabited his own form. Instead, he had become an ancient embodiment of winter itself, transformed into a White Walker like no other. 

Icy splinters crowned his head, and he rode atop an undead steed. Behind him stretched a formidable legion of the undead, with countless White Walkers leading the charge.

On the opposing side, a massive army of men stood in formation, clad in black armor and donning black furs. Alongside them, giants, Children of the Forest, and a myriad of other creatures had united for a singular purpose: to vanquish the Night King and his forces.

Without hesitation, the Night King signaled the beginning of the battle. He raised his formidable iceblade and swung it downward in the direction of the human army. In response, the wights let out eerie shrieks and surged forward, closely following their White Walker commanders.

The human army's leader issued rapid commands, prompting archers at the rear to unleash a volley of fiery arrows upon the approaching undead horde. Meanwhile, the Children of the Forest conjured their fiery magic, and the giants heaved massive rocks toward the wights.

The Night King merely sneered in response. He raised his hand, summoning a chilling wind that rendered most of the fiery projectiles ineffective. Soon, the charging wights and White Walkers crashed headlong into the shielded ranks of the humans like violent waves crashing upon a sandy shore. 

The shield walls of the human army appeared to withstand the initial onslaught of the wights. Soldiers anchored their feet firmly to the ground, a testament to their unwavering discipline. 

However, as the White Walkers, imbued with superhuman strength, entered the fray, the once-unyielding shield lines began to waver due to their supernatural might.

The human army's leader barked orders with urgency, and soon, the giants joined the fray, their massive presence further escalating the chaos. Fiery projectiles continued to streak through the air, launched by the Children of the Forest and the archers in the back line, but the Night King seemed uninterested in defending his forces. 

His attention had shifted, his chilling gaze locked onto the leader of the human army.

With an air of indifference, the Night King directed his undead steed forward. He moved at a leisurely pace, allowing the steed to carry him gracefully across the battlefield. In the process, he calmly dispatched anyone who dared to challenge him, raising the fallen as new members of his ever-growing army.

Eventually, the Night King reached his intended target, locking eyes with the human commander. The commander met the Night King's gaze without flinching, though he opted not to engage in a direct confrontation. Instead, a towering figure from within the human ranks stepped up to the challenge.

This formidable man raised his massive sword into the air and chanted incantations that caused his blade to burst into flames. Without hesitation, he charged headlong at the Night King, ready for a battle that would decide the course of the conflict.

The brave warrior charged toward the Night King, his fiery sword held high. Many wights tried to block his path, but with a single swing of his blazing blade, he cleaved through them effortlessly. Even a White Walker, who dared to stand in his way, was promptly reduced to countless icy shards as the warrior pressed forward, unwavering.

The Night King, however, observed the warrior's approach with an air of disinterest. With calculated lethargy, he dismounted his undead steed, his chilling gaze fixed on his oncoming adversary. As the two warriors finally met, the Night King raised his formidable iceblade and swung it down with deliberate precision.

The fiery sword, upon impact with the iceblade, shattered into a thousand sparks. Horror and determination etched onto his face, the warrior discarded the now-useless blade and decided to rely on his fists. With a fierce determination, he extended his right fist toward the Night King's face.

The Night King, in a display of his supernatural strength, calmly raised his hand and intercepted the warrior's punch, forcing him to his knees. A steely gaze met the warrior's eyes as the Night King swiftly drew a jagged blade and sliced the man's throat. The warrior crumpled to the ground, his life extinguished.

The human commander, witnessing the valiant warrior's fall, clenched his teeth in silent anguish. He had no time to mourn as the fallen warrior soon rose again, reborn as a servant of the Night King. Swiftly, he barked orders to his remaining forces, signaling a retreat. The wights and White Walkers, having finally broken through their shield lines, pressed on relentlessly.

As the soldiers initiated their gradual retreat, the Children of the Forest intensified their magical onslaught. Fiery projectiles created a blazing wall of defense, temporarily halting the relentless advance of the undead hordes. 

Yet, this magical onslaught came at a cost. Vulnerable to retaliation, the Children of the Forest had to be swiftly carried to safety by soldiers and giants as the retreat continued.

While the surviving forces put some distance between themselves and the fiery barricade, the human commander turned back, casting one last sorrowful glance at the fallen warriors on both sides of the magical conflagration. 

To his astonishment, the Night King moved deliberately through the flames, seemingly unfazed by the searing heat, and fixed his cold gaze upon the retreating commander.

With a smirk that carried a mockery of human struggle, the Night King raised his arms in a dramatic gesture. The fallen human and giant corpses, their lifeless eyes now aglow with an eerie blue radiance, began to stir.

...

Gasping for breath as he returned to the mental realm, a place adorned with fantastical castles and winding rivers, Gale cast a wry and bemused look at the Three-Eyed Raven. 

The Raven, however, merely smiled, his all-knowing eyes fixed upon Gale. "Well? What did you learn?" the Raven inquired, anticipation lacing his voice.

Gale let out a sigh, his expression still marked by traces of wonder and trepidation. "I learned that the Night King was as terrifying as he was full of himself... the guy had a dramatic flare, that's for sure," he remarked, punctuating his observation with a bitter chuckle.

A frown creased the Raven's brow. "This is no time for jokes..." he responded, disapproval evident in his tone. "Even trifling knowledge such as this can be used against the Night King," he added with a knowing look, a glimpse into the tapestry of time that only he could fathom.

Gale rolled his eyes, though beneath his nonchalant exterior, he recognized the wisdom in the Raven's words. "Spare me the riddles. I'm sure you've seen it in one of your visions," he quipped. 

"Still... I might be able to learn something useful from this, after all..." he concluded, mentally preparing himself to delve into another vision.

...

In the midst of the chaotic battle in the Haunted Forest, the wildling woman watched with a mix of confusion and desperation as a rain of fiery arrows descended from the skies, consuming the undead that had been charging relentlessly toward her and Craster's former wives. 

As the last of the flaming projectiles hit the snowy ground, a massive man with a shock of red hair, a thick beard, and piercing blue eyes revealed himself, and her confusion swiftly transformed into relief.

"Tormund Giantsbane. I never thought I'd ever be happy to see your ugly mug," she remarked with a smirk, her axes finding their way back to her sides as she surveyed the newfound allies emerging from behind the gnarled trees.

"Threya Snowrider. Boarish as ever, and still got all your bits attached, I see," the man, Tormund, greeted her with his characteristic grin. "Some of the lads and lasses assumed the worst when we found what little there was to find of your companions." He added. 

"She'll outlive us all, I said-- looks like I was right," he concluded, shaking his head in exasperation. 

Threya let out a weary sigh, her breath forming a frosty mist in the cold air. "I can't die just yet. I have news for Rayder, and it's not the pleasant kind," she explained, her eyes scanning the surroundings as if searching for answers. "The cache was in the right place, but it was empty. Someone must have reaced it before me... a crow most likely," she added with a note of frustration.

Tormund scratched his bushy beard, a thoughtful expression on his face. "A crow, eh?" he mused. "There's been a lot of those lurking about lately... any suspects in particular?" He arched an eyebrow, waiting for Thrya's response.

Shaking her head, Thrya replied, "No. But I a place to start..." Her voice trailed off as an image of Gale's face flashed in her mind, and a determined look settled in her eyes.

...

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